


Popcorn Time

by daddychilton



Category: True Detective
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:32:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4333997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daddychilton/pseuds/daddychilton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Movie night at the Cohle/Hart residence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Popcorn Time

The timer on the microwave counted down until it finally issued three separate beeps. The popcorn inside popped its last few pops before Marty pulled it out, shook it, and poured it into a bowl. He grabbed the six-pack of PBR by its plastic rings and the popcorn and headed into the living room, where Rust was already seated on their well-worn couch.

The words Mullholland Drive were on the small television screen in front of them. Blue light wavered over Rust’s face as he said, “You’re gonna love this, Marty. Just… promise me you’ll pay attention this time?”

Marty grunted in the affirmative when he plopped down next to Rust. He pulled one of the beers out of the rings and cracked it open. He slurped the foam loudly from the top of the can.

Rust sighed and hit the “Play” button on the remote. Marty was absolutely, positively sure that he would hate this, just as he’d hated all of the other movies that Rust had subjected him to. He just didn’t get them, it was as simple as that. Give him a good ol’ John Wayne movie and he was set. You through on this symbolic crap, and it went right over his head.

He pulled out a heaping handful of popcorn and shoved it in his mouth; several pieces fell from his hand and onto his shirt. Rust side-eyed him and the stray kernels.

“You gotta eat like that?”

“Yup.”

“Can you hand me a beer?”

“Nope,” Marty said, as he handed Rust a beer. His eyes were glued to the screen. If nothing else, he thought, this would be interesting.

Rust popped the cap on his beer and slurped. This was the fifth time he was watching _Mullholland Drive._ There was something new to find with each viewing. Sometimes he, rather guiltily, thought he and David Lynch would really hit it off if they ever met. He doubted they would, unless Lynch found him in the backwater trash of Louisiana. He put a hand on Marty’s thigh.

“Pass the popcorn?”

“Nope,” Marty said, as he passed the popcorn.

Marty liked Naomi Watts. Maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as watching _Eraserhead_ or, even worse, _Inland Empire._ He just couldn’t wrap his head around those. He didn’t know why Rust was so obsessed with that Lunch guy, or whatever his name was. He slurped his beer again, and the colors from the TV danced across his face.

He shoved another fistful of popcorn in his mouth. He felt the heat from Rust’s palm on his thigh.

“You gotta put your hand right there when I’m tryin’ to concentrate?”

“Yep,” Rust said. He reached over and grabbed a sizeable amount of popcorn. Naomi was saying something on the screen, but he was finding it hard to concentrate on her when he had Marty beside him. He flicked the popcorn at Marty, and chuckled as he saw the surprised look on his partner’s face.

“Listen – hey! What was that for?” He brushed the popcorn off him and onto the floor and gave Rust his sulky look – lower-jaw stuck out, eyes set.

“You were just concentratin’ so hard… I didn’t want you to burst your brain,” Rust said, his voice velvety smooth. Marty felt his heart quicken its rhythm.

“Watch the movie, you prick.” He could barely breathe. He loved when Rust’s voice got all smooth-like. It rubbed him just the right way - just like Rust’s hand on his thigh.

“Alright, alright,” Rust said. “I’ll watch the movie, but only because you’re so hell-bent on understanding this one. You ever think that there ain’t nothin’ _to_ understand, Mart? Sometimes you just gotta let it soak into you and fill you up.” He paused. “You know, like when I’m inside you.”

Marty was in the middle of chugging his beer when he heard Rust say “inside you,” and he spit and choked. He thought this was movie night, dammit, not give-Maty-blueballs night.

“Come _ON_ man, I just wanna watch Naomi bang this girl, let me have this one thing.”

“Uh uh uh,” Rust said, his hand moving up Marty’s leg and towards his crotch. “There’s something else I’d rather pay attention to. You just keep your eyes on the movie now, I’ve seen it plenty of times before.” He pushed the bowl of popcorn out of the way, and before Marty could say, “Hey!”, Rust pulled his sweatpants and boxers down. Marty did not protest the deft movements of fingers that knew him so well both inside and out.

He groaned as Rust’s lips touched the top of his cock and he mewled when Rust tongued the tip. He was licking him like an ice cream.

On the screen, Naomi sat in a theatre. A weird theatre. A weird singer, a weird blue light. This movie was fuckin’ weird, alright.

He leaned his head back as Rust sucked him from balls to tip, throat-deep and hot. Marty didn’t know how much longer he could go before he would cum. He just listened to the weird music playing and the sound of Rust’s sucking. He didn’t have anything else to say.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He moaned and came into Rust’s mouth, and he heard his partner swallow. Goddamn, he thought. Goddamn.

Rust sat up, wiping his mouth with the length of his arm. “How’re you likin’ the movie?”

“Like it quite a bit,” Marty said breathily. “Quite a bit.”

“This one’s easier to understand, isn’t it?” Rust slurped on his second can of PBR.

“Ah-yup. Sure is.”  He grabbed the popcorn. Shoved a big handful into his mouth. Guzzled another beer down. Smashed the can and threw it over his shoulder.

 


End file.
